


Princesses and Generals

by ShadowEtienne



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bi!Lothiriel, But it's there, Eowyn/Lothiriel may not quite go anywhere, F/F, F/M, badass ladies being badass, important family relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowEtienne/pseuds/ShadowEtienne
Summary: Lothiriel grew up surpassing her brothers as she could, though being the youngest, she always felt as though she was catching up.  Dol Amroth was a good place to be a shield maiden in Gondor though, for they followed the older conventions.  Coming to Minas Tirith at last, she falls in love, and then maybe falls in love again.





	1. The Young Princess

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this unbetaed, so I may go back and edit some things within the next few days. Hopefully there are no grievous errors.

Lothiriel was the youngest of her siblings, forever trailing along behind three older brothers.  She desired to catch and even surpass them, but most of the court of Dol Amroth simply smiled at her childish aspirations.  She was more determined for it.

 

Elphir carried the weight of being heir on his shoulders, and twelve years her senior, he had little time for her.  Lothiriel watched Elphir, and at the age of eight, she decided that she would learn the workings of Dol Amroth as well as he, for she did not think that he would be able to do everything alone.  Their father certainly did not.

 

Erchirion took quickly to the ways of the sword and the sea, and at nine years her senior, he mostly acted as though it was his duty to watch over her.  Lothiriel knew that she could hold the same sort of power as Erchirion in the navy of Dol Amroth if she so wished, for he trained under the command of her Aunt Ivriniel, but she did not wish to take that role from him.  Instead, she strove to one day best him with her sword, for like many of the maidens of Dol Amroth, she took up the sword and shield for her people, even if the roles of shield maidens were mostly forgotten in much of the rest of Gondor.

 

Amrothos, merely five years her senior, was the brother she was the closest to.  He was the most scholarly of the siblings, but from him, she took the desire to understand all that could be found around her.  She challenged herself to read the same texts and study the same lore as her older brother, and she became proficient beyond her years in healing and logistics.  Amrothos had a gentler hand than she, but it could not be argued that she knew her way about the fields that she had studied, and she was a finer field medic than most could hope for by the time she had reached twelve summers.

 

Her father, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, had little time for her when she was young, it seemed, and she in fact rather thought that she saw more of her Aunt, despite Ivriniel’s long departures to sea.  Lothiriel did not want for mentors though, for she shared her tutors with her brothers, and she trained with the best of the guard alongside them.  Even beyond that though, there was her cousin.

 

Her elder cousin, Boromir, had not spent much time in Dol Amroth.  He was the heir of the Steward, and therefore had little time for his mother’s people, but Faramir, younger of the two, though still sixteen years her senior, had spent far more time in Dol Amroth when he was younger.  As the war dragged on, and he was needed more at home, his presence become merely one in letters, but Lothiriel clung to it dearly.  When her brothers had long since ceased returning his letters, once addressed to all of them, Lothiriel would gladly write replies, and eventually, her cousin’s letters were addressed to her alone.  They shared a certain frame of mind, and Lothiriel, for a time, wanted nothing more than to ride to join the Rangers of Ithilien and aid her cousin.  She was disgruntled to learn that there were no women among his force, though at least she was relieved that he said he would have been glad to have her, despite his father’s inclination to not allow such things.

 

When Lothiriel was fifteen summers old, she finally caught her father’s attention, and that of all of Dol Amroth, as a much beloved Princess of Dol Amroth.  Among the warriors of the city, there were often competitions when there were not enemies at their gate, and at fifteen summers, Lothiriel was at last old enough to take part in them.


	2. The Summer Contests

The contests were held early in the summer, before those who sought to prey on a weakened Gondor would come sailing from the south.  They sharpened the warriors’ skills, and showed who among the young warriors were most suited to what branches of Dol Amroth’s protections.  Lothiriel joined the many young warriors in donning swan helmets that hid most of their faces, glad that she was not the only one who’s long black braid fell to the waist among the young warriors.  She did not want to be recognized and given any favor.

 

The young warriors joined in right beside their seniors, all from those fifteen summers old to some more than seventy summers old competed against each other.  The contests started with tests of sailing, as was thought right by a city as tied to the sea as Dol Amroth.  While Lothiriel was a competent sailor, and did well in her little skiff in the races and mock battles, she did not show her strengths there.  She was never the worst, but she was also not the best.  Those were where her brother, Erchirion, shone.

 

The next day dawned bright and clear, and Lothiriel thought it a good sign, for this was the day of the tests of strength at arms.  She was among the first to arrive at the archery range, and she felt herself settle comfortably into the routines of caring for her bow and preparing.  There had been similar, much smaller contests among the training warriors, and she knew that she was skilled among them.

 

As the day continued, and they moved from bow, to sword, to spear, to hand to hand combat, she could hear the whispers begin to mount, and she felt pride welling in her chest.  She had won against all of her brothers in archery, and against Erchirion in sword and spear, where neither of her other brothers had tried their hand.  She had not bested everyone, but she had been the youngest warrior to reach the final rounds of the contest.

 

No one had recognized her yet, except perhaps her brothers, but they knew better than to betray who they had faced.  It was the way of the contests that if a competitor kept their helmet on, they were not to be revealed, and her brothers respected that.

 

The final day was the one that Lothiriel had looked forward to the most though:  the tests on horseback.  For this was where Lothiriel had very first exceeded any feats of her brothers.  None of them had taken to horseback more than was necessary.  Elphir had a solid seat, but he prefered the mounts of heavy cavalry if he must leave on horseback, for he was not nimble in the saddle.  Erchirion prefered riding a boat to a horse, though he had a good enough seat when needed.  Amrothos rode a bit better than their elder brothers, but he was not a skilled fighter on horseback, or rather at all.

 

The course for tests on horseback was long.  It started with a stretch where competitors had to capture rings with a spear as they rode, through a stretch of winding path, before they reached an open meadow where they had to switch to the bow and hit as many targets as they could from horseback, and at last, there was a final stretch where they raced, favoring speed and agility across rough terrain.  They were all provided with horses from the stable of the city, so none would have an undue advantage or disadvantage in the training of their horses.

 

Lothiriel knew that one did not have to be the fastest across the finish line to win, for there were points gained from the rings collected and the targets hit.  Riders went out in pairs, for that was how many could safely fire at targets, one set to the east, the other to the west.  Lothiriel waited with her horse restlessly as the first several pairs went.  She saw them starting to return, and she knew that she could best the times and rings that had arrived so far.

 

At last, she mounted and went to the starting line, facing up against a vetran of thirty summers.  It was a random draw, but she knew that an experienced rider would give her more of a challenge.  She rode low and tight to her horse as she started leaning just far enough to snag each hoop as she passed it.  She counted them in the back of her mind, twelve in all, and she grinned as she left into the narrow turns before the field of archery.  She had caught them all.  

 

She socketed her spear in her saddle, letting the rings be held by the spear as she drew her bow, guiding the horse with her knees.  It was well trained, and she was grateful that all of the horses in the city stable were taught to ride with archers on their backs.  There were twelve targets at varying distances from her set path, and she eyed them as they came into view around the bend.  She kept herself steady, raising herself higher in the saddle as she put her first arrow in place to fire.  The first three targets were easy, but she could see that the fourth would be a challenge, as it was framed by a small turn in the path.  She placed her first three arrows in their targets, but she was moving fast enough that with the turn, she was not able to see if the fourth arrow flew true.

 

She had seconds to put it out of her mind, but she did, and managed to land the next arrow.  There were some hard shots in the remaining seven, but she knew that she had hit all of them, so she would only question whether it was eleven or twelve targets that she had hit.  She pushed that from her mind as well, shouldering her bow again and tucking herself into a tight position as she turned the tight corner down into the ravine where the last trial of the race, speed over obstacles, began.

 

She was a bit perplexed that she did not hear her opponent as she entered the sharply echoing stone paths, but she pressed on, taking tight turns on loose gravel, and urging her horse to take leaps over deadfall.  There was no set path through the final stretch, just a guided area that they had to make it through.  There were clearer ways, and faster ways that required being able to leap obstacles and take difficult terrain without being unseated.

 

She heard the rushing of the river before long, and came rushing up to the ford.  She could detour to the small bridge, or take the shallow forge, and her horse felt receptive and eager beneath her, so she urged it to the river.  She felt the fresh spray against her flushed face and the horse made the final strides and she slowed to a stop at the finishing point.  There was silence, and then thunderous applause.

 

As she dismounted, suddenly her brothers were around her, and Amrothos urged her to take off her helmet.  She looked around at all those gathered, and there was a swelling of pride for her people and for herself.  They were cheering for her.  She was not just the little tag along Princess.  There were several riders left to go, though the number had dwindled since she had left on her race, as they started staggered behind.

 

The little old man who officiated the race took her hand gravely and said, “There are racers yet to come, but that is the fastest that any rider has ever taken that course Princess Lothiriel, and with great accuracy, not a missed ring or a missed shot along the way.”

 

She sighed in relief, and whispered to her brother Amrothos, I had not been sure on one shot, it was a strange angle.”

 

At last her opponent made it out of winding path, and then she waited, and waited as the last of the riders made their attempts, but as the old man had expected, she had won the day.  Her father looked on her with pride then, and came and took her helm and had her walk with him as they went to the celebratory feast.  He asked her of her studies, and she realized that he had accepted that she was just as much a potential general of Dol Amroth as her older brothers, and the feeling of warm pride rose again in her chest.


	3. To War

Lothiriel was eighteen summers old when her brothers rode to war with her father, but she and her Aunt stayed behind.  She watched from the ramparts, Princess and General of Dol Amroth, as Prince Imrahil, and Elphir, and Erchirion, and poor downcast Amrothos rode out to answer the call of Minas Tirith.  Elphir rode proudly beside his father, knowing that great trust was being placed in him, but Erchirion would have rather stayed with his ships, and Amrothos would have rather not gone to fight at all.  Lothiriel wished that she could go in Erchirion and Amrothos’s places, leaving them to the navy and managing healing and supplies within Dol Amroth, but it was not to be, for their father knew what would anger the Steward, and the Steward was not fond of shield maidens among his warriors.

 

Lothiriel was proud of her post though, for she had the command of the city, while her Aunt Ivriniel had the command of the sea.  Lothiriel knew the workings of Dol Amroth as well as any of her brothers, and she knew that her father was proud, and perhaps a bit surprised, for though she had always said she would overtake all three of her brothers’ skills, she was fairly sure that no one had fully believed her.

 

There were many sleepless nights for Lothiriel as the city fell under attack from both the sea and the land, but Dol Amroth held strong.  Their navy was the best, and the Corsairs who faced them were no match for the speed and maneuverability of Dol Amroth’s ships, but Lothiriel worried that their forces were being held distracted for far too long.

 

And yet, no word came from Minas Tirith, so all that they could do was carry on defending themselves.  Lothiriel sent a few scouts when she was beginning to worry, hoping that they would bring back fair news, or at least not news of death and destruction. 

 

The day that Dol Amroth broke its own siege was the day that there also came word of the victory in defending Minas Tirith, and with it strange and wondrous tales, though not all was well.  Faramir, her dearest cousin, had been hurt in the fighting, and he was not well.  There was a part of Lothiriel that longed then to rush to Minas Tirith to bring aid, but she knew that she could not leave her post until she was relieved by the return of one of her brothers or her father.

 

Word came too of a great and perilous ride to the very gates of Mordor, and Lothiriel longed even more strongly to be among the company of her father’s men then.  Especially when she heard the tales of the Princess of the Rohirim who had slain the Witch King.  There was a small part of her that thought that she could have perhaps shown herself as valiant.  She wanted to meet her.


	4. To Minas Tirith

Lothiriel’s chance to travel to Minas Tirith, though not to join those marching on the Black Gates for they had already departed, came sooner than she might have expected.  While Elphir and their father rode with the company to the Black Gates, Erchirion and Amrothos returned to Dol Amroth, the former somewhat wounded, though he would recover, and the latter to take the managing of the city back from her with the assistance of his wounded brother.  

 

When they were given a few minutes to themselves, Amrothos told her, “Go with the warriors being sent to shore up the defences of the White City if it would please you Little Sister.  We can keep Dol Amroth safe, and I know that you long to be of some service yet.”

 

Lothiriel only hesitated for an instant, before nodding gravely and telling him that she would lead the men back.  He smiled and clasped her arm, wishing her well, and she could barely contain her joy at finally riding out, as she had long been trained to do.  They met a few pockets of resistance along the path to Minas Tirith, but they were a well trained force, even if they were small in number, and it did not take them long to make the trip.  They were brought into the White City with some celebration, for there was relief in the streets of the city, even though the dark cloud still hung over it.

 

Lothiriel badgered her way into helping with directing rebuilding.  Moving fortifications and sighing over the mess that had been left of things.  The city would not be rebuilt in a day, but she was of the mind that a lot had been left to another day that should have already been handled.  She did not go to visit her cousin at first though, loath to see him worse off than she would have expected.

 

When the shadow broke, then she finally took the walk up the great hill to the Houses of Healing where Faramir recovered.  She saw him then, and he held her close and exclaimed how fine and strong she had grown.  They were of a height then, and could have been easily taken for brother and sister, for Faramir favored his mother in face and hair.  

 

Faramir brought her to walk with him in the gardens, and he asked her of her accomplishments in Dol Amroth, and how the war went.  He told her of his own struggles as well, and she wished that she could have been there more than ever, simmering with rage over her uncle-by-marriage’s betrayal.  Faramir, it seemed, was merely saddened by his father’s betrayal, and Lothiriel knew better than to push the conversation further.

 

After she had left him to the healers, as she was leaving, she saw a woman not much her senior standing in the gardens, and she knew from descriptions that this must be the shield maiden who had slain the Witch King.  The shield maiden was tall, though not as tall as Lothiriel herself, and fair with long hair that was gold as the wheat before harvest, and Lothiriel watched her with a certain awe.  The shield maiden turned her head and saw Lothiriel in the garden entrance, and looked almost puzzled.

 

Lothiriel took the chance to come closer and smile.  Before she could make an awkward introduction for herself.  The other young woman said, “You look almost as a sister to the Lord Faramir, yet I do not know you.  I am Eowyn of Rohan.”

 

Lothiriel wondered at this woman, but she was relieved that she had been given an opening to speak to her.  She replied, “Ah, his cousin.  His mother was my father’s sister.  I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, just recently come to Minas Tirith with my father’s men to aid in the rebuilding.”

 

Eowyn smiled at her, a strangely fragile smile, and said, “Faramir has told me that there were few shield maidens among the people of Gondor, but you wear a sword and bow.”

 

Lothiriel nodded and replied, trying to quell the strange fluttering in her heart at the smile, “In much of the lands of Gondor, that is true, but Dol Amroth keeps more in line with the older ways.  We guard the entrance to the great river from the sea, and we have always been the most at war, in good times and in bad.  And you my lady Eowyn, are shield maidens yet common in Rohan?”

 

Eowyn shook her head, a sad and pained look upon her face, and said, “They have not been common in many a year, and I believe that my time of sword and shield is done, and I must take the way of healing in repayment of my own healing now.  But perhaps, that route will be more open for other daughters of Rohan again.”

 

Lothiriel looked at Eowyn carefully, noting that there was something brittle about her seeming health, that she was still here in the Houses of Healing, though most of her physical ailments other than a broken arm seemed to have passed.  Lothiriel said gently, “It is possible for a hand to wield both herb and sword.  I have trained in both since I was young.”

 

Eowyn favored her with another bitter-sweet smile, and Lothiriel sighed quietly.  Eowyn replied, “Perhaps a time will come when I take up sword and shield again, but I would hope that for some time I do not need it.”

 

She was called then by the healers, and Lothiriel took her parting from the beautiful shield maiden of Rohan, wondering when they would have the chance to meet again.  There was a tenuous sort of bond there, and she seemed close to Faramir, Lothiriel’s dearest cousin, and only cousin now.


	5. Hopes Dashed and Regained

Lothiriel encountered Eowyn in the gardens after her talks with Faramir a few more times.  Each time, they walked together for a bit.  Lothiriel noted that Eowyn seemed happier each time, as the light returned to the lands.  And then, one cool and foggy morning, Eowyn wore Finduilas’s cloak, and Lothiriel knew.  She realized that perhaps she should have known sooner that Faramir was courting her friend.  They were similar in that regard as in all others.

 

She did not pull away from the friendship, but she firmly locked away the feelings that had begun to grow of kinship towards her fellow shield maiden.  She watched them then.  Faramir was gentle and kind with Eowyn, but they spoke quickly to each other, clearly able to exchange words of wit and wisdom between them.  Lothiriel could not help but be happy for them both, though she felt a certain sense of loss that she had not had a chance to form such a bond with Eowyn.

 

The Kings and Princes returned triumphant, along with people of many lands, and everything was suddenly a rush in preparation for the coronation of the returned King.  Lothiriel met many people then, but among them, she found that perhaps, her hopes had not been dashed, for Eowyn’s brother was much like her, and thrilled to meet his sister’s friend and the daughter and sister of warriors he had fought beside.

 

She was seated beside Eomer at a dinner, shortly before the royal wedding, and the first words from his mouth, devoid of the pomp that she would have expected of the nobility in Gondor in such circumstances, were, “Faramir and my sister both tell me that you are a most accomplished rider.  Have you had the chance to ride upon the horses of Rohan yet?”

 

Lothiriel grinned, charmed by his excitement, and shook her head, replying, “I have heard that no finer mounts are to be found, but Dol Amroth often prefers mounts of strength and size to those of speed and agility, though that is not my preference.  I would have great interest in the chance though.”

 

Eomer nodded and said, “I hear that you’re to ride with us when we return to Rohan, so I will be sure that you are given the chance.”

 

She looked at Eowyn, across the table seated with Faramir, and she saw a warmth in her friend’s eyes as she watched the interaction.  She smiled back at Eowyn and joyfully continued the conversation or horses and techniques with spears from horseback.  Perhaps things had fallen out right after all.


End file.
